


breathe

by gingergenower



Series: Five Times Spider-Man Panics (and one time Peter Parker doesn't) [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Hyperventilating, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: Smacking out, kicking, trying to scramble away, Peter doesn’t even look at who he’s hitting at- they can’t kill him like this, he can’t let them-They must be super-powered, because they bat his arms away and hold him down tighter.





	1. Chapter 1

Staggering into a brick wall, Peter tries to stay upright, but his legs give under him and he crumples to the floor. 

Either his vision’s blurry or the alleyway’s dim, but he can’t see much. If the guy comes after him for a second go Peter won’t be able to do anything about it. Fighting against heavy, sluggish limbs that seem to move independently of his body, he forces himself to sitting up, slumped against the wall.

‘ _Mr Stark is on his way_ ,’ Karen tells him. ‘ _Please keep pressure on your wounds to reduce blood loss_.’

Hands folding over his abdomen, Peter’s eyes slide shut and his heart’s thrumming in his ears, a hummingbird’s wings against an ocean’s waves. ‘Um. ETA?’

‘ _Three minutes. Mr Stark is aware of your condition and would like me to convey a message to you_.’ A recording of Tony’s voice plays in his ear; ‘I’d lecture you on not getting stabbed in the future but I get the feeling your aunt will do that. Don’t die.’

‘Tell him-’ Peter coughs yanking his mask halfway up his face because he’s choking, hacking up something into his hands. 

In the darkness, it takes him a few seconds to recognise his own blood.

‘Oh.’

‘ _Peter, please keep breathing_.’

Spitting out the blood onto the concrete next to him, Peter tries to pay attention to Karen, but it’s getting harder. Mostly it doesn’t feel like breathing’s having any effect. 

His eyes slide shut again, and he can’t stop it. He’s so tired. His whole body’s slowing down, chin dropping to his chest, and Karen barks at him to wake up but he can barely hear her. Sleeping wouldn’t be the worst thing he could do.

Someone grabs his shoulders, shoving him onto his back.

Smacking out, kicking, trying to scramble away, Peter doesn’t even look at who he’s hitting at- they can’t kill him like this, he can’t let them-

They must be super-powered, because they bat his arms away and hold him down tighter.

‘Please- no, don’t-’

‘My name’s Charlie,’ a woman says, and he pauses, breathing heavy, because he wasn’t fighting any women and she’s leaning over him, knee pinning down one of his hands and both her hands pressed into his stomach. Her whole weight’s behind it. ‘I’m a student doctor, I’m trying to help you. What happened?’

Peter blinks, staring up at her. She’s already got his blood on her face. ‘Stabbed.’

Two fingers press into his neck before they shove back into his stomach again. ‘Ok. You’re going to bleed out if I don’t call an ambulance. Do you understand that?’

‘ _Please tell her to answer her phone. Mr Stark would like to talk to her_.’

Her phone starts buzzing in her pocket, but she goes to hang up.

‘Answer it,’ Peter says.

She frowns for a second, then does as he says, tucking the phone between her shoulder and her ear. ‘You work with- ok. He’s got three major stab wounds to the abdomen, as far as I can tell. …elevated heart rate, unsteady breathing, there’s serious internal damage and trauma and huge blood loss, he’s going to need at least three litres in transfusions... third year.’

Peter chokes again, rolling sideways to cough the blood out. She waits until he’s done and he rolls back before she presses the wounds harder, but it doesn’t really hurt. He doesn’t feel anything, anymore.

‘You’ve got friends in high places,’ Charlie tells him. ‘Iron Man’s coming. You’re going to be fine. Keep breathing.’

He nods. He doesn’t want to die here.

‘ _Peter, please inhale on my count, and exhale on my count. Breathe in… breathe out_ …’

Keeping pace with Karen’s impossible. He didn’t realise he was breathing like he’s drowning, but apparently there just isn’t enough air.

He passes out.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Well, look who dragged himself out of his deathbed this morning,’ Tony says, glancing up from the inch-square circuit board he’s modifying to raise an eyebrow at Peter. ‘Good to see you up.’

Wrapping the duvet he stole from the med bay tighter around his shoulders, Peter sighs. He’s in pyjamas from home, and May was sleeping in the bed next to him, but he doesn’t really remember what happened or how he got there.

‘What did I do?’

‘I didn’t know until I found the footage. You saved a guy from a beat down by some druggies,’ Tony says, turning back to board and prying part of it off with a screwdriver. ‘Excellent webbing techniques, a frankly _gorgeously_ executed roundhouse kick. Problem was, you turned your back on him. Never do that.’

‘Um.’

‘He was their dealer. He figured you’d arrest him too, so he stabbed you.’

Peter flinches.

‘Three times.’

Scrubbing his face, Peter’s got a headache right behind his eyes and he kind of wants to curl up in a ball and go back to bed, but he figures Tony won’t care if he does that in the corner of his workshop. ‘Sorry.’

‘You should be dead,’ Tony says, matter of fact. ‘But don’t worry, I think your aunt’s going to correct that.’

May knows everything. He can’t keep this kind of thing from her, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to. ‘If I should be dead, how I am-?’

‘Charlie Brooker, third year medical student at NYU. You were bleeding out but she kept you alive until I got there.’ Tony swipes at a hand at a holoprojection, and a profile with all sorts on it pops up. A scan of her driver’s license, her social media pages, a picture of her dog. ‘You walked her sister home last week.’

‘I did?’

‘She posted in on Instagram. Wrote something about owing Spider-Man a favour because her sister was hammered and underage and walking home alone. I figure she’s paid her debt.’

Peter vaguely remembers a girl with a pink streak in her hair that threw up three times on the sidewalk. ‘Yeah, she has. Can I say thank you?’

‘I’ve paid her student loans off,’ Tony shrugs, focussing back on his work. ‘And her parent’s mortgage.’

Nodding, Peter swallows. ‘Thank you.’

‘Mm.’

After shifting foot to foot awkwardly, waiting for Tony to say anything else, Peter sighs and makes a nest in the corner of the workshop. Head resting against the wall and head still pounding, he’s only half awake when he realises he has no idea where his suit is. Or if it’s as ripped to shreds as his stomach apparently was.

He wants to peel up his pyjama top and see, but he’s not sure he can face what it looks like. His body rejects stitches, they’ve figured, screwing up the way his body sews itself back together. He won’t feel better if he looks.

Tony’s focussing on whatever that circuit’s for, and he’s ignoring Peter in that way he does sometimes. He’s pissed Peter got hurt and he’s pissed that he “let” it happen and he’s probably pissed that some random stranger had to step in and save Peter’s life.

This is the worst he’s ever had. Nearly dying, and everyone knows about it. He doesn’t even know how long it’ll take him to get over this- he’s never got a scar since the spider bite, but he might now.

Tony shifts at the desk.

He’s taken the suit back, Peter thinks. He can’t be seen to condone the danger Peter’s proven he’s putting himself in.

Peter curls his legs to his chest even though there’s a jagged pain in his stomach. He tries to control his breathing, but it’s going weird under him, and little pieces of the night before come back to him.

He remembers coughing up blood, stringy and glistening in his hand. He remembers Charlie telling him he was going to be fine because she thought he was dying. He remembers the guy, he remembers the gut-wrenching surprise when he walked into that knife, and getting stabbed twice more just for standing still, he remembers throwing a web up and walking across three rooftops and he remembers barely saving himself from plummeting into that alleyway.

If he’d died there, May would’ve had to sort out his funeral. She’d have to identify his body.

He kind of wants to throw up, and he kind of can’t breathe and oh, he actually can’t breathe, he’s breathing but it’s not _working_ -

Tony drops to his knees in front of Peter, grabbing his shoulders. ‘Kid, breathe with me, alright, you’re hyperventilating-’

‘Please- look after May,’ Peter gasps, and he holds Tony’s arms and chokes on the words because he’s never said them out loud but he should’ve before last night. ‘If I die, please don’t leave her alone.’

Staring at Peter like he’s not really taking in what he’s saying, Tony pauses. Then he holds Peter tighter, holding his gaze. ‘You’re not going to die in my lifetime.’

‘Please look after her,’ Peter says, and his face crumples, ‘please, ok, even if it’s just helping her plan the funeral, please look after her, I can’t-’

‘ _Kid_.’ Tony drops his head, taking a deep breath, then he looks back up and his voice is fierce. ‘If for some, godforsaken reason this planet is somehow more of a _bitch_ than I thought, if you die, I promise you she won’t be alone.’

Peter swallows, still struggling to match Tony’s breathing.

‘Alright?’

He nods, and Tony’s grip slackens a little, but he doesn’t let Peter go. He stays, not saying anything, letting Peter follow his breathing until he’s calmed down. Peter lets go first, but Tony doesn’t, speaking like carrying on the conversation after a four minute pause is entirely natural.

‘You’re not going to die on this job.’

That’s not really something Tony can guarantee, but he sounds so sure about it Peter half-believes him anyway. Wiping his eyes with the corner of his duvet, Peter sighs when Tony lets go of him.

‘You’re going to need a week off,’ Tony says, groaning as he staggers to his feet but offering Peter a hand anyway, ‘don’t get old, kid- so I’m going to give your suit an upgrade.’

Peter straightens himself up slowly, trailing back to Tony’s workbench. ‘What kind of upgrade?’

‘I’ll have to overhaul the suit. I reached out to someone I know, told him your sob story, offered my assistance should it ever be required, pointed out all your good deeds, that kind of thing. How would you feel about having the fabric of your suit made of vibranium?’

Peter blinks. ‘I’d be knife-proof.’

‘That’s the idea.’

‘Um. Hell yeah?’

Tony points his screwdriver at Peter. ‘Good answer. Now, we’re not getting the delivery until tomorrow, but I’m getting a head start on the alterations the suit will need. Do you still want the drone?’

‘Droney needs a vibranium suit too,’ Peter says immediately, and Tony pauses.

‘"Droney”? Really?’

‘"Dum-E"? Really?’

Tony turns on Peter.

‘…please don’t hurt Droney.’

‘Mm.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony 100% sold his soul to T’Challa for that much vibranium  
> also this one made me cry but I think that was mostly hormones


End file.
